


Americana Exotica

by orphan_account



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Centaur AU, Fantasy AU, Im sorry when will I stop with the progressively weirder magic stuff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-10 17:25:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8925871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Patrick gets turned into a centaur. Pete has a very lucrative career in trafficking magical beasts.(probably wont be updated! My motivation comes and goes and the storyline I had planned for this is probably too complicated and long for me to ever actually write. We can talk about the au on my blog and I'll tell you the plot)





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was going to be written as a one shot to make sure I finished it, but I realised the amount of character development means I'm going to have to chapter it. Hopefully other updates soon as I'm on Christmas break. Please check put my blog @saverockandsoulpvnk in the mean time!

Pete rubbed his hands in the most self-satisfied way possible. He couldn't believe he'd finally flogged that troublesome yellow-crested griffon to a collector, where it would stop pulling up his carpets and eating the rose bushes. 

“I’m basically the greatest beast trafficker ever,” he informed his dog, lying on the floor beside him. Although he specialised in the most fantastic and strange creatures, his own companion of choice was always the trusty canine. 

Okay, so some of the protected creatures he dealt in were technically illegal to keep in captivity. Still, a job’s a job. 

***

Out of breath, Patrick stopped and leant against the tree to rest. He'd just outrun his family pet and childhood companion, the miniature garden cape dragon the only thing he wasn’t allergic to. 

He'd been having a nan when he'd woken up from his recurring childhood dream where he turned into a horse and was competing in the olympics. Suddenly Felix was snapping and growling at him, foaming at the mouth and trying his best to singe Patrick's feet like he didn't know who he was. 

Patrick had been forced to sprint from his house, falling over a few times because it seemed his legs hadn't properly woken up yet. Alone in a copse of trees he didn't recognise, tired and confused and still terrified from being on the receiving end of a dragon’s rage, he stumbled to his knees and sobbed. 

***

Pete stared. He looked down at his innocently panting dog and immediately stared again. While walking his dog, he seemed to have made the best discovery of his career. 

Pete had worked with lots of beasts. Himalayan ice harpies, that thing from the amazon rainforest that was just a pile of sludge with teeth. He had not worked with a centaur. No one had, because they were so impossibly rare that the experts weren't even sure they still existed. 

There was a young man lying on the ground in the woods, a horse’s torso extending from his waist. Pete barely saw this. Instead, his whole vision was clouded with gold, the stacks upon stacks of it that this thing would be worth. The only problem was, from the few who claimed to have encountered them, it was said that there was nothing harder than getting a centaur to go somewhere it didn't want to. 

 

***

 

Patrick peeled his eyes open sleepily, unsure where the hell he was for a moment. It came flashing back, his furious pet, collapsing amongst the trees. He must've fallen back asleep. But- 

“Hello? Anyone home?” said the young man leaning over him, poking him in the stomach and looking oddly excited. 

Patrick squirmed away, his body feeling somehow heavier than he was used to. The man pulled back and flashed his bright white teeth at Patrick.

“You shouldn't be out here all alone. There's a lot of people that would pay a lot of money to get their hands on you.”

 

Patrick shook his head groggily - that was a seriously creepy thing to say. “I… uh. Thank you?” his sleep deprived brain came up with in answer. 

The next thing he knew, he was standing up. He almost fell into the guy, jerking back on his cursedly unsteady legs and shaking his head apologetically. “Please forgive me, my legs just aren't right today. My name’s Patrick.”

 

“Pete,” the dude replied, sticking his hand into Patrick's face until he shook it. “You're shorter than I was expecting,” he observed, again with the weird comments. 

Patrick drew himself up, sighing. He knew he was short but it was an unkind thing to pick on. It's not like this Pete was even much taller. “Yeah, I’m not exactly a giant. Still, I’m not the shortest ever…” he muttered defensively. 

Pete almost leapt in the air, looking amazingly happy. He was so weird. “Wait. There's more of you?”

Patrick blinked at Pete. “Um. Like seven billion last I checked…” He was seriously starting to wonder if he was going to have to take Pete to the ER in case he'd hit his head. 

Pete went silent. 

 

“Uh, Patrick? You do know you're a centaur, right?” 

 

 

***

It took Patrick a lot longer to pick himself back off the floor once he realised just how fucking complicated his legs had become. When he let them take care of themselves, they seemed to be almost competent. But once he was aware of their unsteady spindliness, they became downright impossible to co-ordinate. 

 

He kept muttering to himself; about how he couldn't go home, about what the hell his friends would think, his parents. He figured Pete seeing him with hooves wasn't going to get any more weirded out if he also started talking to himself. 

“Oh man,” Pete groaned, “This is going to be more complicated than I thought.” 

What exactly was going to be more complicated, Patrick didn't exactly know - Pete seemed to be talking to himself. He took a deep breath, staring noticeably not at Patrick's face but at his… flank. Or whatever that was even called, Patrick didn't know horse terminology, because he wasn't often around horses, until they were fused to his bottom half. 

“You don't have anywhere to go? You can stay with me. I kind of specialise in exotic beasts.”

 

Patrick glared. He wasn't sure he liked the implication that he was an exotic beast. He was about to say something when an irritated whinny broke out of his mouth, and he clamped a hand over it in embarrassed shock. Pete started to walk away, stopping when Patrick didn't follow. 

“Come on, Pinkie Pie, we don't have all day!”

Patrick tried to ignore the unsettling click as he stamped his foot- hoof- in unbridled rage. “What the fuck did you just call me?” he squeaked angrily. He was NOT a my little pony, and definitely not the pink one with the squeaky voice. 

Pete just clicked his tongue, like riders do when they're urging a horse to trot, and Patrick found himself unsteadily racing after Pete. When the noise and feeling of his own four hooves cracking against the twigs on the ground freaked him out enough that he lost concentration, he immediately fell over. 

Pete made no move to help him up, just stood there and whistled as Patrick pathetically dragged himself up from the ground. He stood upright for precisely three seconds before, like a baby giraffe, his legs spread and catapulted him back to the ground. It was only on the third attempt that Pete decided to finally help, letting Patrick lean against his shoulder. 

“You can't walk like a human,” Pete grunted. “Horses- and centaurs I guess- walk like this: left hind leg, left front leg, right hind leg, right front leg.” 

Patrick cocked his head at Pete, puzzled. 

“I started off with an internship at a unicorn training school. I know magical horses.”

With that advice he was marginally better, but even on the legs of what Pete politely informed him was probably a ‘cobby mountain pony built for compact stamina over speed and elegance’ the journey to Pete’s car managed to take at least half an hour. 

Patrick opened the passenger door and was about to collapse into it in relief when Pete stared at him. “What the hell are you doing?” 

“W- oh. I won't fit.” He went white, clasping his hands and begging, “Please don't make me walk back, I'm so exhausted I can never move again."

Pete shook his head, patting Patrick's flank in a way so patronising it made him tense up and have to fight not to bare his teeth. “Calm down. Just wait here five minutes, I’ll be back with my horsebox. It probably still stinks of yeti but my spare is transporting a herd of rock gremlins right now.”


End file.
